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The Cold: Part 2

The Cold (An Easy English Story): Part 2

When I get home, the house is dark.  Mom and Dad left this evening to stay with my grandmother in Pennsylvania for the weekend.  I usually don’t spend much time with them, but tonight my house feels too quiet.  Too dark.

I lock the door, turn all the lights on, and put a frozen pizza in the oven.

While I wait for the pizza, I remember that Mom sent me a text message two hours ago.  “How was the interview?”  I reply, “same as before,” and throw the phone on the couch.

Really, I’m lucky.  I’m not the two people on the side of the road.

I turn on the TV.  The laughter of children in the theme park commercial makes the house feel less empty.

Suddenly, a red bar appears on the bottom of the screen, with the familiar screeching noise that plays during a bad weather warning.  Words move across the red bar: Lockdown.  Lockdown.  Residents in Clayton, please stay in your homes.  30 bodies were found dead today.  It is not safe to go out.  Please stay in your homes until the lock down ends.  If you see anything suspicious, please call your local police station.  Lockdown.  Lockdown.  The message repeats. 

I turn the TV channel to the news station.  The red bar is still on the screen, so I cannot hear the news reporter.  I turn on the subtitles.  They read: Today, thirty bodies were found dead around Clayton.  Most of these bodies were found outside by roads and in fields, and a few were found in parking lots in the city.  All thirty people were naked.  No one has seen these people being killed, but police ask anyone with information to contact them now.  Police believe that there is a group of killers in our area.  There are no cuts on the bodies, so police do not know how the murderers are killing.  Doctors wonder if there is a new drug or a new disease that affects the brain.  Maybe it causes people to take off their clothes and stay in the cold until they die.  Because we do not know what is causing these deaths, the government has asked everyone to stay in their homes as much as possible.  It is not safe to go out.

I turn the TV off and open my phone.  Mom called five times.  I call her back.

“Ari, are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.  I guess you saw the news about the bodies?”

“Dad and I are coming home right now,” Mom says.  “We’ll be back around 2 a.m.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to stay at Grandma’s?” I ask.  “I’m fine, really.  I won’t go out.  There’s enough food at home.”

“We’re coming.  Just don’t go out at all, okay?  I don’t want…”  She stops talking, and we are both quiet.  I know that she is talking about Alex.

“Okay,” I say.  “Be safe coming back.”

I hang up the phone as the timer beeps.  I bring my pizza into the living room and turn on the news channel again.  Here is what they know about the deaths so far:

  1. Thirty people between the ages of 25-80 died.
  2. All thirty people were naked.
  3. All thirty people were found outside.
  4. No one saw the killers.
  5. They did not seem to die because of drugs, guns, or knives.
  6. None of the thirty people knew each other before they died.

On the news, there is a smartphone video of three teenagers lying in their bathing suits in the snow.  Suddenly, they sit up and scream at the camera, and the person holding the camera runs away laughing.

The news reporter repeats that everyone must stay inside and that it is dangerous to make videos like this.

I turn off the TV, and the living room is silent.  The snow shines coldly under the front porch light.

By Sunday evening, fifty-two people were found dead.  Mom and I spent the weekend watching the news.  Dad stayed in the garage to finish building a new bookshelf.

“I hope this is not like coronavirus again,” Mom says while we watch the news Monday morning.  “I can’t do another lockdown.  How will we go to the store and to work?”

“Mom,” I say slowly.  “I saw two of the bodies…”

Mom turns off the TV.  “When?  Where?”

“On my way home from the interview—well, the interview that Mr. Jones didn’t come to.  You know, I don’t think it’s a disease.  Everyone was naked.  And…”  I pause.  “They looked like they were in the cold for a long time.  Maybe they died from the cold.”

“Why didn’t anyone notice them?”

“I don’t know.”

I want to believe that these people died by accident.  Maybe they were making stupid videos for the internet, going out naked in the snow.  Maybe they did take drugs that the doctors couldn’t find.

But fifty-two totally different people…

My phone rings.  It’s the number of The Observer, the newspaper company I was supposed to interview at last Friday.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Ari Brooks?” the familiar soft voice of the receptionist says.  “Emily Sato, our managing editor, wants to speak with you.  May I put her on the phone?”

As soon as I say yes, a strong iron-like voice says, “Ms. Brooks, are you still interested in a journalist position at The Observer?”

I am shocked.  Where is Mr. Jones?  I say, “Yes, but I thought that Mr. Jones—”

“To be honest, we do not know where Mr. Jones is,” Ms. Sato speaks before I can finish talking.  “But as you know, right now we need journalists.”  She sighs.  “Since there is a lockdown now, I can’t invite you to the office, so I will email you a link for a video interview.  Can you interview now?”

I look down at my pajamas.  “I’m not exactly dressed for—”

“It’s okay.  This interview can be casual.”

I quickly run upstairs and put a sweater over my pajamas and tie my hair into a ponytail.  When I open the video chat, Ms. Sato is wearing a gray suit and is sitting in a home office.  A casual interview?  Sure.

“This will be short,” Ms. Sato says.  “One of our journalists, Tom, was one of the fifty-two who were…  who died.  We do not know if Mr. Jones is alive, and we already do not have enough staff.  The whole country wants to know more information about the people who died, but we don’t have much information to tell them.”  Ms. Sato crossed her arms.  “I called five other people who applied for this journalist job, and none of them want it.  They don’t want to leave their houses.”

Great, I think.  I’m Ms. Sato’s sixth choice.

“This journalist position could be dangerous.  You will have to leave the house to learn more about the people who died.  You can make calls and emails from home, but sometimes you will need to go to the place where the bodies were found.”

I think about Mom.  She will be upset if I take this job.

But this is my chance.

“I’ll do it,” I say.

“Great.”  Ms. Sato’s voice sounds happy, but she does not smile.  “I’ll send you the job offer letter with your salary and the job description.  After you sign it, I will send you Tom’s notes before he…”  She does not finish the sentence.

“Thank you,” I say gently.  “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

Mom hears that I finished my video interview and comes into the living room.  Her face is rock hard.  “Please don’t take the job.”  She was probably listening to my interview from the kitchen.

“This was my only job offer,” I argue.  “Besides, the lockdown is just for people who go out for fun.  Most people still go to their jobs.”

“But we don’t know why those people died!  What if you—”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Alex was careful, too.”  Mom’s eyes were red.

Neither of us says anything.  I look down at the floor, and Mom leaves the room.

Part 3>

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The Cold: Part 1

The Cold (An Easy English Story): Part 1

My heart is beating fast.

I wait alone in a room.  There are newspapers on the wall and a big leather sofa in the corner.

I sit on a small, uncomfortable chair by the door.

Waiting for that door to open.

“Ms. Ari Brooks?” a woman says while she opens the door with her cherry red nails.  “Mr. Jones… did not come to the office today.  Can you come back tomorrow for an interview?”  The receptionist stepped through the door.  She looks annoyed, but she politely smiles.

How can this happen to me again?

“Actually,” says the receptionist, “Many of our staff are not here today.  It’s January, so maybe they are sick or have the flu…”

“I understand,” I say.  “Please ask Mr. Jones to call me when he feels better.”  I try to smile, but I want to cry. 

I leave the newspaper office and get on the bus.  I want to buy a car, but I don’t have any money.  I am 22 years old, but I live with my parents.  I graduated from college with a degree in journalism, but I can’t find a job.

My sadness becomes anger.  Why didn’t Mr. Jones contact me to reschedule the interview?  Even if he is sick, he can still send a short email.

This is not the first time.  My interviewer last week did not come either.

People can be so rude.


The bus ride home is quiet.  The only other person on the bus is an elderly woman with a cowboy hat.  She gets on the bus at one stop and gets off at the next.

This newspaper company was my last interview appointment.  I applied to twenty companies, got rejected by eighteen, and got an interview for two.  Both interviewers had to “reschedule” for an unknown reason.  This one didn’t even come to the interview.

I look out the window of the bus.  In Clayton, there is a small city and a lot of farmland.  Cows stand close to each other in the field beside the highway.  It is hard to count them in the snow, and their black spots look like many watching eyes.

Screech!

The bus stops suddenly, and my black bag flies off the seat.  Many cars behind us honk their horns angrily.  A woman next to us rolls down her window and takes out her cell phone, recording a video of the bus driver and yelling horrible things.

The bus driver, a man with a large belly and a small gray moustache, does not respond to the woman.  He rushes down the bus steps and runs to the side of the road.

The bus driver is tapping something on the ground and shouting.  He calls for help and takes off his jacket, laying it over something I cannot see.

The angry woman from before runs over and begins to make a phone call.  She squats on the ground and covers her eyes while talking to the person on the phone.

I wonder if there was a car accident.  Is there a dead animal or a dead person on the side of the road?  The woman is crying now.  She hands her phone to the bus driver, who continues talking to the person on the phone. 

Thinking it is probably a person who died in some accident, I stand up and walk to the front of the bus to see what happened.

Most people do not want to see a dead body.  I don’t want to see it either.  But if I want to be a successful journalist, I need to get used to seeing terrible things sometimes.  It is our job to tell the world about these terrible things, hoping that the world can learn how to be more careful.

As I get closer to the front of the bus, I see a head of blond hair next to where the bus driver is standing.  A man, in his late forties.  His face is paler than his hair.  He looks like he was in the cold for a long time.  Did no one notice him until now?

I stand up on the bus seat to see more of the accident.  Was he riding a motorcycle?  Was there a helmet or a bike on the side of the road?

From his pale face, a pale neck appears.  Then pale shoulders.  Then a pale chest.  The rest is covered by the bus driver’s jacket.  Two blue-white feet stick straight out from the jacket.

This man died naked.

Sirens cry in the distance.  Soon, two police cars and an ambulance show up.  A police officer interviews the bus driver and the woman with the cell phone.  Another officer takes pictures of the body on a camera.  She calls to the other officer and points to a tree next to the road.

Among the tree roots that stretch out from the tree and disappear into the snow-covered ground, two legs appear from behind the tree.  Like the other body, the legs are naked, and they do not move.  Unlike the other body, both legs are dark purple.

Part 2>

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See the World: Part 3

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See the World (An Easy English Story): Part 3

Neil does not want the doctors to look at him.  He wants them to look at the patient or look at the machine.  The machine is working now, not Neil.

The computer works.  Neil looks at Sam.  Sam smiles under his mask.  Neil feels good when he sees Sam.  

Neil’s real name is Alexander MacNeil, but on his first day of work, Sam called him Neil.  Sam said that Neil’s real name was too long.  Sam also asked Neil to call him “Sam.”  Sam never told Neil his last name.  When Neil met Sam, Neil thought that Sam was too casual.  Neil felt angry.  But after Neil worked with Sam for ten years, Neil liked his nickname.  He also liked Sam.  

Neil and Sam usually ate lunch in Sam’s car.  They listened to music while they ate their cafeteria sandwiches.   Neil was the best doctor at Johns Hopkins, and Sam was not a very good doctor.  But Neil felt happy around Sam.  Most doctors use very big words, but Sam talks to Neil like a friend.

Neil hears a sound.  His memory of meeting Sam finishes.  A message appears on Neil’s computer screen.  The message says:  “The computer found 100% of the HIV cells.  The computer will start genome editing.  The patient is safe.”  Neil turns off the machine.  He feels very happy!

Part 4>